Читать книгу: «An Orphan’s Courage», страница 2
‘You shouldn’t believe a thing these girls say,’ Ruby retorted furiously. ‘Some of them become violent and have to be restrained. I worked in a remand home for some months before I applied for this job and I saw how necessary it is to use force at times …’
‘We are aware that in extreme cases it is sometimes necessary to restrain a violent case, but always the minimum amount of force is to be used. Did you not tell a girl that if she caused more trouble she would be subdued by drugs and locked in a padded cell?’
‘No, of course I did not!’ Ruby retorted and then felt the hot colour rush up her neck and into her face as she remembered she had said something of the sort to Betty Goodge. ‘Well, I told her it might happen if she was violent … she attacked me and I had to subdue her …’
‘Did you know that she tried to commit suicide the day after she was committed to the remand home?’ Mr Irvine asked coldly.
Ruby felt sick and shaken. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she said, ‘No, I was not aware of that … but I’m sure I had nothing to do with it …’
‘You think your threat was not related to her act of desperation?’ the inspector asked sarcastically. ‘Did you not know the girl’s history, Miss Saunders? As a child she was sexually abused and beaten systematically, and when she fought back she was locked in a cellar until she ceased screaming. We knew she was a thief and a little wild, but we sent her here rather than a remand home to give her a chance for a better life – your threats affected her mind powerfully and she went into a decline after her attempt at suicide and is now in the care of a psychiatrist in a secure hospital.’
‘I didn’t realise she’d been locked in a cellar …’ Ruby felt hot and uncomfortable. ‘I do not see that I can be held accountable for what happened to her at the remand home.’
‘Neither did Miss Sampson,’ the inspector told her. ‘However, it has been decided that we shall visit more often in future and see how things are going here. For the moment I find that everything is in order – but I must tell you that the Department frowns on the use of threats …’
Ruby had fretted with frustration after that last visit. It wasn’t her fault if a wild girl had tried to take her own life because she’d been sent to a place where the discipline was harsh. Besides, the attempt had failed and had probably been staged to gain attention. Betty was now in a hospital and most likely running rings round the staff there …
She glowered at the wall that divided her office from the orphanage next door. It had been Ruby’s ambition to take over there when Sister Beatrice retired – and surely that couldn’t be much longer.
She wondered what Miss Sampson had to say to her and hoped she wasn’t in her bad books again …
‘Well, that is the intention,’ Ruth Sampson said, giving Ruby a triumphant look. ‘It isn’t confirmed yet, because we still have to come to terms with the Board of St Saviour’s – but I’m fairly certain that it will go ahead by the end of the year. We shall take over the whole building and you will be in charge of both sides … if you wish to accept the position …’
‘Yes, of course …’ Ruby stared at her, unsure of what she was hearing. ‘You’re saying they’re closing their doors and we’ll be in complete control of the orphans as well as our girls …’
‘Yes, that is the idea. St Saviour’s cannot continue to support two homes, as I’m sure they realised, but they kept it on because Sister Beatrice fought the closure and local people supported her – but now they’ve realised it is untenable …’
‘What will happen to her – to Sister Beatrice?’ Ruby asked, feeling an odd pang of sympathy for the woman she’d resented at the start but now rather admired from afar.
‘Her methods are outdated and since I am in overall charge I should not accept her continuing presence. You will run the kind of home we require with the proper standards. We shall continue to take in children from the streets for a short time, but other centres are being planned and eventually we shall be what we are now but much larger … It makes more sense for sick children to be dealt with in specialised centres these days before being moved out to the country. The nurses next door are an unnecessary luxury.’
‘Yes, I suppose so …’ Ruby was a little disappointed. She’d quite liked the idea of taking in the children in need. ‘So it will happen by Christmas?’
‘Possibly the following January … but it isn’t settled yet. There could be complications so you must keep this to yourself. Were it to become known … I wouldn’t put it past that woman to stir up the local population again …’
‘Of course, you may rely on my discretion …’
‘Naturally.’ Miss Sampson smiled. ‘I was sure I could … This will be a promotion for you, Ruby.’
Ruby agreed and left the office, feeling thoughtful as she walked back to her home. Once, she’d thought she felt more for Miss Sampson than she ought, but the gloating in her eyes as she’d spoken of Sister Beatrice’s dismissal had left a nasty taste in Ruby’s mouth. Ruby didn’t like the old bat much, but she did respect her and felt oddly guilty that she was being sent packing just like that. It seemed unfair after all her years of service …
As she entered the building where her small flat was situated, Ruby saw a young woman burdened down with parcels and bags and realised she must be moving into the vacant apartment above. Seeing the girl drop some of her parcels, she darted forward as the lift opened.
‘Here, I’ll give you a hand with those,’ she said and scooped them up. ‘I’m Ruby and I live in the flat below you.’
‘Hi, I’m Carla.’ The girl’s bright eyes made Ruby feel an odd tingle at her nape and she dropped her own. The flame of her hair as it curled about her face was striking and there was something about the girl that instantly appealed, her smile reaching out to Ruby’s lonely heart. ‘Come on up, I’ll be glad of help with all this lot – and then perhaps we can get to know one another over a cup of coffee …’
‘Well, I’ll give you a hand in with all this stuff – but I’ve got some reports to write this evening.’ Ruby saw Carla’s smile dim and wished the words unsaid, but she couldn’t go back on them and perhaps it was best she didn’t. Ruby couldn’t afford to get too close to a girl like this; she had to think about her career …
CHAPTER 3
‘Keep yer mouth shut, Beth,’ Andy Rutherford hissed at his sister as they trailed in the wake of the police sergeant. ‘If they know where we came from they’ll send us back, and I’d rather die than be made to do that.’
His younger sister Beth nodded, silent and instinctively obedient. Her large brown eyes were wide with distress as she held on to Andy’s hand, her face pale with fear. The last thing she wanted was to be sent back to a life that terrified her. She was seven years old, pale and vulnerable, and all she’d known in her short life was abuse, hunger and fear. Love was something she felt for her elder brother, because he was her protector and her refuge, though she couldn’t put a name to her feelings. She only knew she was safe with Andy: he’d taken a beating for her more than once, saving her from the Beast …
‘It ’ull be all right,’ he whispered with a reassuring smile, his eyes lighter in colour than hers and his sturdiness making him seem so much stronger and fitter than his sister. ‘Not like before …’
Beth’s hand trembled in his and nodded silently. She believed in Andy, who was six years her senior and seemed to the timid girl wise and brave and her only protection from those who wanted to hurt her.
Sergeant Sallis glanced back at them and smiled kindly. ‘Don’t be frightened, Beth,’ he said. ‘I told your brother they were good people here and they are. Sister Beatrice looks stern, but she’s the kindest person I know – and Staff Nurse Wendy is lovely, as is Sister Rose.’
‘Why are they called sisters?’ Andy asked curiously. ‘Is it a place for nuns?’
‘Bless you no, it’s a proper children’s home, one of the best around,’ the police officer said. ‘Sister Beatrice is a nun but she’s also a nursing sister – and Sister Rose used to work in the London hospital.’
‘That’s where they took Ma when she was bad,’ Beth said and Andy squeezed her hand hard, making her look at him in protest. ‘I wasn’t going to say,’ she whispered.
Sergeant Sallis looked from one to the other, but didn’t press for more information, merely nodding to himself before moving off again. Beth was a little nervous of anyone in uniform, but Andy had told her they could trust him.
‘You can tell by his eyes,’ Andy had whispered to her when the police had taken them in and fed them. ‘He’s all right, Beth. I wouldn’t trust him just because he’s a copper, mind. It’s the way he smiles with his eyes and means it – not like the Beast …’
Beth felt sick at the mention of the Beast. She’d clung to her brother, shielding behind him as the policeman told them he was taking them to a place where they would be safe and looked after. Once before, after their mother died, someone had told them that and it hadn’t been true, because they’d been made to go and live with the Beast, but Andy was listening and agreeing to the policeman’s suggestion.
‘We’ve got to do what he says for now,’ he’d whispered to Beth. ‘It won’t be for long, love. As soon as I can work I’ll find us some rooms and I’ll look after you. I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again …’
Beth nodded, and held on tightly to her brother’s hand. She’d been cold and hungry for days, because they’d slept rough in a little deserted shed down by the railway, living on the food Andy managed to beg or steal. He’d tried to get work, because he was strong, but the bosses kept turning him away – he wasn’t old enough to work legally, they said, and they would be in trouble if they let him do a man’s job. Once or twice since their escape, Andy had found work washing down lorries that had carted dirty loads and he’d come back to her stinking like drains, but the only place he could wash was in the men’s toilets and he had to be careful. He’d taken his shirt off to wash once and a queer bloke had come after him, offering him money to do something that Andy thought was rude. So now he filled bottles of water and they washed their faces and hands as best they could in their little hut, but both of them were itching and Beth thought she’d seen something moving in her brother’s hair. She shuddered at the thought and longed to be clean again, but she would remain dirty all her life rather than go back there … to the Beast’s house.
She felt sick at the memory of the months since her mother’s illness and sudden death in hospital. Left alone at the mercy of the Beast, they had lived in terror, never knowing whether he would return drunk or sober. Beth sometimes thought her step-father was worse sober than when he was drunk; drink mellowed him for a while and if she was careful and kept out of his way, she had little to worry about. However, when he was sober, he swore at them both, expected Beth to do the chores her mother had done and gave them very little to eat. They were, he vowed, nothing but a nuisance and he could not be bothered to bring up children who were not his.
‘The silly bitch shouldn’t have gone poking her nose in where there was sickness,’ he muttered furiously as he landed a blow on Beth’s arm when she reached for a piece of bread spread thinly with dripping. ‘If she hadn’t gone and caught scarlet fever, we should’ve been eating a decent dinner instead of this rubbish – and I’m havin’ that last slice so keep your dirty fingers orf it!’
Andy was made to do all the chores Beth couldn’t manage, like digging the allotment and cleaning the gutters out when the rain came pouring down the walls because they were choked with filth. He had to polish the Beast’s boots and clean the bike he used to get to his work in the canning factory, fetch him fags and beer from the pub on the corner, and clean the stove out in the mornings, as well as putting the rubbish out in the bins. All the jobs the man of the house was supposed to do and the Beast had never bothered with, leaving them to his long-suffering wife and then her young son.
Beth wasn’t good at ironing and sometimes she got a few blows because she’d creased the Beast’s trousers wrongly or scorched his shirt. When he wasn’t at work, and despite his slovenliness about the house, Beth’s step-father liked to dress well if he was going out. He’d tried to thrash her when she’d accidentally scorched his best blue shirt and Andy had stepped in to stop him, but the Beast had turned on Andy, beating him until he fell to the ground and lay still.
The Beast had stared at the boy lying unconscious at his feet and shrugged, before snarling at Beth, ‘Tell anyone about this and I’ll kill the pair of you. I’m going out …’
He’d slammed off out of the house, leaving Beth to kneel by her brother’s side and bathe his forehead with cool water as she wept. Andy had come round at last, feeling sick and woozy, but gradually the mist had cleared, and that was when he’d told her that they had to run away.
‘But where shall we go?’ Beth asked plaintively. She hated the Beast but she was even more terrified by the idea that they would run off somewhere, because at least in this house that had been their father’s they had beds and there was sometimes food to eat.
‘We’ve got to go, Beth,’ her brother insisted. ‘Next time he will kill us – besides, he’ll probably have us put in a home somewhere if we stay. He doesn’t want us around now that Ma is dead, and I hate him.’
‘I hate him too,’ Beth agreed, and allowed him to persuade her that they should escape while their step-father was out down the working men’s club he liked to visit on Friday nights, playing darts for the local team.
They’d taken some of their clothes, the few that fitted and weren’t falling apart with wear; they’d also taken an old flask that had once belonged to their father filled with water from the tap, what was left of the bread and dripping, Andy’s pocket knife, two chipped mugs and two spoons from the drawer, two towels, their spare shoes, Beth’s rag doll and a Biggles book that Andy’s father had given him long ago.
There was no money in the house. The Beast had made sure of that, giving Beth’s mother only a small amount for shopping each week. After her death he paid for everything himself, never sparing a copper for either of the kids, and giving them only enough food to survive and that grudgingly.
Perhaps it was because they’d been hungry for a long time that the hardships of life on the streets hadn’t hit them immediately, but by the time the police picked them up after a tip-off from one of the railway workers, Beth was so hungry she cried most of the time, and Andy wasn’t much better.
The promise of baths, food and clean clothes was tempting and Beth’s feelings swayed between apprehension and hope when the policeman told her they were nearly there. When she looked up at the severe building with its grimy walls and small windows up in the attics, she pulled back and her fear made her want to run, but Andy pressed her hand and Sergeant Sallis smiled at her, as if he sensed her nervousness.
‘It’s all right, Beth,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t look much, but it’s warm and they look after you here. I promise you … cross my heart and hope to die if I tell a lie …’
A reluctant smile came to her face and she stepped forward, some of her fear evaporating as she saw a woman in a pale grey uniform and a white frilly cap standing in the hall.
‘Ah, you must be Andy and this is Beth,’ the nurse said and her smile lit up her face. ‘My name is Staff Nurse Wendy, and I’m going to look after you. I think you both need a nice wash and then I’ll tuck you up in bed and bring you something lovely to eat.’
‘It’s not time for bed,’ Beth said solemnly and she saw a twinkle in Nurse Wendy’s eyes.
‘No, but I think you must be tired and hungry after all you’ve been through, and I want to make sure you’re quite well before you go to the dorms – and perhaps start school …’
‘School – can I go to school?’ Beth’s heart did a little skip, because it had been ages since she’d been allowed to go. The Beast said she had work to do for him and didn’t need all that nonsense.
‘Yes, you can and you should,’ Nurse Wendy said and looked at Sergeant Sallis. ‘Thank you for bringing them to us. I shall look after them now.’
‘Yes, I’m sure of that,’ he replied and hesitated, before offering his hand to Andy to shake. ‘You’ve been a sensible lad. If you ever need my help, please come and tell me and I’ll do my best to sort things for you.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Andy said. ‘When I can work I’ll ask you for a character reference so I can get a good job.’
‘You should study hard and do something worthwhile, lad. I think you’ve got it in you to do well …’ Turning to Beth, he said solemnly, ‘It has been nice to meet you, miss. I know you’ll be safe here with these kind people.’
Beth thanked him shyly, and then she saw that Nurse Wendy was holding out her hand. She hesitated, looked at her brother, and when he gave her a little nudge, slid her hand into the nurse’s. She had begun the long journey back to trust, but was still anxious enough to look over her shoulder and make sure that Andy was following close behind …
CHAPTER 4
‘Are you certain she said I was to go for an interview today?’ Jinny asked, looking at Nellie as she pushed a mug of hot strong tea in front of her together with a slab of bread and jam. ‘Just like that, really? I asked at half a dozen places this week and they all said to come back when I had some experience of work …’ She spread her hands wide. ‘How can I get work experience if no one gives me a chance?’
The radio was playing behind them, the music of Bill Haley and His Comets blasting out, making Jinny want to dance the way her friends had shown her at last year’s Christmas party at school, when they’d put records on the Dansette record player that a teacher had brought in.
‘Well, yer’ve got your chance now thanks to my cousin’s daughter,’ Nellie said. ‘I saw Hannah when I was down the market, a few days after you left school and told ’er you needed a job. I said you wanted to work for St Saviour’s. It weren’t quite the truth, but a little white lie does no harm now and then.’ Nellie wagged her three chins and laughed as she saw Jinny’s smile widen. ‘That’s it, love. You’d have somewhere to live as well as a job, see – and it’s not that I don’t love havin’ you ’ere but you ain’t safe while that devil is still livin’ next door …’
‘Oh, Nellie, why couldn’t you’ve been my mother?’ Jinny said and got up to hug her. The music on the radio had changed and the words of Elvis Presley’s record ‘All Shook Up’ flooded the room. ‘Listen, he’s your favourite …’
‘Yeah, I like Elvis,’ Nellie chuckled and turned the wireless up until her neighbour banged on the thin wall. ‘Miserable old meow she is …’
‘Oh Nellie,’ Jinny said and hugged her. ‘I do love you. You’re a good friend to me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if it hadn’t been for you …’
‘Go on with yer, girl,’ Nellie said and gave her a friendly push. ‘Get that tea down yer and then go and ’ave a look what you’re goin’ ter wear fer the interview. I reckon that navy blue skirt yer made last week would be about right, but what about a blouse? I’d lend yer somethin’ of mine, but they’d drown yer …’ She went off into a peal of laughter and Jinny laughed with her at the idea.
‘I’ve got my white school blouse,’ Jinny said with a sigh. ‘It’s the last thing I had new for school. Ma grudged it to me but she had to give me the money, because the old one split at the seams. I’ll pay you back for the material for my skirt, Nellie – I promise.’
‘I told yer it don’t matter,’ Nellie said and took her purse down from the shelf. ‘’Ere, go and get yerself somethin’ orf the market … and don’t refuse. When yer earnin’ yer can give me a treat … take me to the flicks or somethin’.’
‘Yes, I shall,’ Jinny promised. ‘We’ll go to see Elvis in his film if you like …’
Nellie’s face lit up at the promise, even though she’d already seen her hero on the big screen twice. She pressed a ten-shilling note into Jinny’s hand. ‘Get a good one, girl. Somethin’ smart, like, not second-hand rubbish. I saw some pretty new blouses for five bob on the market – that stall near the fishmonger. Well … not too near, ’cos then they’d smell like ’e does …’ She went off into a cackle of laughter.
‘Nellie, you do say awful things,’ Jinny teased, but she took the money and slipped it into her pocket as she reached for her school coat. It was worn and threadbare on the sleeves, but better than the shapeless dress she was wearing. She would wear it to go shopping, even though it was so warm she didn’t need a coat. As she aimed a kiss at Nellie’s cheek and left, she made a mental vow to repay everything the good-hearted woman had done for her.
Jinny had done what she could by helping out about the house as much as she was allowed, but Nellie wanted no repayment, and she would have to find ingenious ways of giving back the kindness she’d received in this house, but once she was earning money she could bring her friend fruit, sweets and perhaps the latest records – and she would take her out, to the flicks and other places.
All she needed was a job, but that was easier said than done. She’d started by sending out polite letters, but when most of them had either gone unanswered or brought abrupt rejections, Jinny had started a tour of shops: Woolworths, Peacock’s, and the Home and Colonial, as well as the Co-op and a couple of dress shops, also factories, cafés and hotels. She’d been offered two hours scrubbing out offices in the mornings and had thought she might take it, but Nellie discouraged her.
‘If you get stuck wiv something like that, you’ll be in a rut and never get out of it,’ she’d said and patted her hand. ‘I’ll ask about a bit, love. See if I can find out about something better …’
Jinny had agreed but it hadn’t stopped her looking. Unfortunately, nothing had turned up and by the time she’d applied for the scrubbing job, it had gone. Nellie had said it was just as well, though Jinny had regretted it, but now she felt excited. She was being offered a proper interview at St Saviour’s by some people named Sister Beatrice and Sandra Milvern, and that sounded important. She didn’t know what sort of a job it was but she didn’t really care. Anything decent and legal would do; she just wanted to earn some money and repay Nellie’s kindness – and her friend was right, it would be better to get away from here so that she wouldn’t have to put up with Jake’s glaring eyes every time he saw her.
‘Bitch,’ he’d hissed at her the last time he’d blocked her path, his hand gripping her arm in a punishing hold. ‘I’ll get even with yer one of these days. Just wait and see …’
Jinny hadn’t answered. She’d been frightened of pushing him into something violent, but with Nellie’s husband standing at the door waiting for her, Jake had left it at veiled threats. He hadn’t wanted one of Bert Strong’s hammer fists in his face although Bert was quite a bit older than Jake, who couldn’t be more than early thirties, he was a big tough man who worked as a Docker, an amateur champion boxer in his day.
The sun was warm and Jinny undid her threadbare coat, wishing she’d left it at home, but she felt like a scarecrow in her old dress, which was one of the few things her mother had brought round and shoved in Nellie’s arms when Jinny was out one day.
‘You’ve got the ungrateful little bitch, so you keep ’er,’ Ma had hissed drunkenly. ‘I don’t want ’er back …’
Jinny wished that her mother had brought her extra shoes and more underwear, but she suspected that anything worth selling had gone down the second-hand stall for beer money. Jinny had been left with the school things she’d been wearing and a couple of old dresses; plus a nightgown, some knickers, a cardigan and a skirt that had seen better days. None of it was good enough to sell or Jinny would’ve sold it and bought material to make something new, but Ma hadn’t given her anything worth having.
She bit her lip, feeling the sting of tears. Why did her mother blame her for what had happened? She’d come round to Nellie’s screaming at the top of her voice that Jinny was a scheming bitch and sporting a black eye.
‘It’s your fault ’e give me this ’ere,’ she’d yelled and gone for Jinny until Nellie had hauled her off and given her a push into the nearest chair. After Nellie had finished telling her off, she’d looked a bit ashamed and said, ‘Well, she must ’ave flaunted ’erself to make ’im go fer ’er like that …’
‘’E’s a pig and a brute,’ Nellie said bluntly. ‘You know that, Mabel Hollis, so don’t come round ’ere blamin’ that girl; ’e’d ’ave anythin’ in a skirt and Jinny’s a lovely young girl – in case you ’adn’t noticed …’
‘Too damned pretty,’ her mother said and started crying tears of self-pity. ‘What chance ’ave I got when she’s around? They look at me an’ then they look at ’er and I’ve ’ad it …’
‘That ain’t Jinny’s fault. She don’t encourage Jake and you know it – but she’s stayin’ wiv me now so that’s it …’
Mabel glanced round the neat kitchen, taking in the painted dresser, which was fresh and bright and set with blue and white crockery, the scrubbed pine table, blue and white voile curtains at the windows, and mismatched chairs, and shining linoleum on the floor. Nellie didn’t have a better home than she did, but it just looked better – and it smelled better – and perhaps in that moment Mabel was aware of her failings as a mother and housewife.
‘Well, she’s better orf wiv you any road,’ she said and stopped crying. ‘I’ll bring ’er fings round then …’
She’d seemed ashamed of herself as she left, but when she’d brought the old clothes round later she’d been in a temper again, and had obviously decided that she would dispose of the better clothes that her daughter possessed.
Jinny was nearing the market in Petticoat Lane. The thought of the ten shillings in her purse was so exciting that she could hardly contain herself as she wandered from stall to stall, keeping her hand in her pocket to protect it from wandering fingers that might try to rob her. Pickpockets frequented the various lanes that housed the several markets in the area; all kinds of merchandise was sold in these lanes, second-hand clothes, shoes, and better clothes, as well as crockery; leather and cloth bags, straw hats, curios, and a variety of other goods in the lane itself, but in the next streets there were caged birds, food stalls, rags and pens containing rabbits and small livestock, like one-day-old chicks and ducks.
Jinny lingered by a stall selling new clothes. She looked through a rail of skirts, none of which were more than ten shillings, and found a tweed one she liked a lot, but what she really needed was a new blouse.
‘Sell yer that fer seven bob if yer want it, luv,’ the stallholder said and winked at Jinny. He had a nice smile and she didn’t feel in the least threatened. She was tempted, but knew she needed a blouse more than another skirt.
‘I like it, but I need a blouse,’ she admitted. ‘Perhaps another week – if I get my job …’
‘Yer can ’ave it two bob down and half a crown a week,’ the trader offered. ‘Yer’ve got an ’onest face, luv.’
‘Thanks,’ Jinny said and smiled. ‘I need to see how much I can get a blouse for first – and maybe I’ll come back …’
‘Maybe you’ll win lots of money on Ernie’s new Premium Bonds,’ he said and grinned at her. ‘I’m gonna buy one fer a quid next month and if I win the big prize I’ll be rich – and then I’ll give all me customers half price …’
He nodded and Jinny moved off, passing the stalls selling new blouses, most of which would take the whole of her ten shillings and more, to the second-hand stalls further down. In the previous street the goods shown were much worn and unwashed, but on one stall with a notice proclaiming the goods were nearly new, the clothes were hung on hangers and nicely presented.
Jinny saw some lace blouses and went to look. She immediately saw two pretty ones that she liked; one was yellow voile with little white spots and the other was cream silk and had a lace frill at the cuffs and tiny pearl buttons. Both looked as if they might have been new, and she looked at the price tags with some apprehension. They were priced at six shillings each – which meant she could afford one of them and still put a deposit on the skirt.
‘Do you like ’em?’ The young woman came round from the back of the stall with a friendly smile. ‘They’re a bargain they are – cost you two guineas each new they would.’
‘They look as if they were expensive,’ Jinny agreed. ‘Is there anything wrong with them?’
‘Nah, they’re perfect, and I washed ’em meself,’ the girl said proudly. She was wearing a full skirt, pretty blouse and white bobby socks with winkle-picker shoes. ‘I’m good at things like that – you ’ave to be careful with real silk …’
‘Are they both silk?’ Jinny asked, feeling a flutter of excitement, because she’d thought they were lovely without knowing what they were. ‘Why did the woman who owned them sell them?’
‘She ’ad a baby and they wouldn’t fit – ’sides, she’s got loads of money … she was tellin’ me she were at Wimbledon when Althea Gibson beat Angela Mortimer. I ’eard it on the radio, but I’d love to ’ave been there – wouldn’t you?’
‘Oh, I’ve never thought about it … I did play tennis at school, but I wasn’t very good.’ Jinny touched the material of the silk blouses reverently. ‘I’d like them both but I can only afford one,’ she said hesitantly. ‘I’m not sure which to choose …’
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